Feb. 19, 2013

Fans go wild after former Hawkeye Brent Metcalf scores on Jared Frayer with Gator Wrestling Club during session 4 of the U.S. Olympic Wrestling Trials at Carver-Hawkeye Arena in Iowa City on Sunday, April 22, 2012. / Benjamin Roberts / Iowa City Press-Citizen

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When shock waves circulated that the International Olympic Committee’s secret vote to whittle down offerings by one for the 2020 Games had locked crosshairs directly on wrestling, my mind tripped over the questions.

How could wrestling, one of the most participated-in sports in Olympic history that dates back to ancient Greece, suddenly have its neck resting uncomfortably on the chopping block?

How did Olympic decision-makers determine golf would be added for 2016, if a down-the-road impact of that and other decisions could leave a legacy sport like wrestling fighting for its five-ringed life? Ask yourself: Would a golfer rather win the Olympics or the Masters? Or British Open?

Can anyone make a straight-face argument that modern pentathlon, field hockey, beach volleyball and rhythmic gymnastics own richer Olympic bloodlines or global histories?

What if a mainstream media group in the heart of American wrestling country committed to attaching itself to the story until the IOC’s final vote in September, well after the initial headlines faded — seven months in all?

That led us to a project we’ve called “Wrestling’s Olympic Fight,” launched today on DesMoinesRegister.com.

I feel a personal and inside connection to the sport and the people behind it. I’d been exposed to the uniqueness of the sport and all it represents by covering Olympic wrestling in 2004 (Athens), 2008 (Beijing) and 2012 (London) for the Register and USA TODAY.

Before that, I covered multiple NCAA championship teams coached by Dan Gable at Iowa — including the freshman seasons of Hawkeye legends Tom and Terry Brands. Along the way, I’d written stories from season after season of Iowa’s storied high school championships in Des Moines.

Wrestling, without a doubt, is a quirky sport. It routinely fails to hide its rough edges, its personality flaws, its emotional shortcomings — which, when you think about it, makes it about as fundamentally human as you can get.

When I followed former Iowa State star Cael Sanderson at the 2004 Games, I remember being struck by a story his mother told me just before his gold-medal match. As she talked, it explained all those lessons learned through time on the mat.

A piece of my story from 2004 in Athens:

ATHENS, Greece — The tiny piece of paper Debbie Sanderson found in the scrapbook of her son, Cael, listed the ambitious goals of the Utah first-grader.

Be a good student.

Be a good person.

Be an Olympic champion.

Sanderson, as he did in his singularly exceptional college career, is perfect again — 3 for 3.

The soft-spoken former Iowa State star lived up to the steep expectations launched after his 159-0 NCAA career, beating Korea's Eui Jae Moon 3-1 on Saturday for an Olympic gold medal in freestyle wrestling.

“I see the medal,” said Sanderson, looking down at his chest. “but it's hard to believe.'”

Because of wrestling, we know that Anthony Robles can win an NCAA championship on one leg — and Simpson College’s Nick Ackerman can do the same without parts of two.

Because of wrestling, we know that Rulon Gardner proved invincible Russian star Alexander Karelin was mortal. We learned that toughness and spirit could help a wrestler survive a plane crash, a bout with hypothermia while stranded in the mountains and more.

Last week, Iowa gold medalist Dan Gable said of the uphill fight that will attempt to redirect a historically stubborn IOC that he doesn’t know “four letter words” like q-u-i-t and c-a-n’-t. The main reason: Those words rarely exist for anyone in the sport.

At the state tournament last weekend, four-time champion T.J. Sebolt explained how he lost his first 27 matches as a first-grader, all by pin. If that’s not a reason to walk away, plant destructive seeds of doubt or injure championship dreams beyond repair, what an incredibly impactful sport this wrestling must be.

Iowa Gov. Terry Branstand launched the campaign “Let’s Keep Wrestling” last week, and one of the speakers to march to the podium was Northern Iowa coach Doug Schwab.

The 2008 Olympian raised a point that helped shape this project, too.

“It’s real fresh right now,” Schwab said. “When things are fresh, people have a tendency to, ‘OK, we’re going to fight this, we’re going to petition, we’re going to tweet, we’re going to Facebook, we’re going to email, we’re going to write’ — we’re going to do all those things.

“But we’ve got to keep doing them.”

The Register is making that kind of long-term commitment.

“Wrestling’s Olympic Fight” will provide glimpses into the sport’s failings, public relations warts and all. We’ll examine why it has yet to capture the consistent interest of all-powerful television, when others found ways to wriggle into the spotlight. We’ll examine the sport’s economic impact and potential, and hear from those around the world about why it matters well beyond Iowa.

There are few things, if any, as uniquely Iowan as the sport of wrestling. There are few Olympic sports, if any, that bridge and bind so many disparate backgrounds.

The Register understands all of that — and what’s at stake with the 2020 Olympics and beyond.

Bryce Miller can be reached at (515) 284-8288 or brmiller@dmreg.com. Follow him on Twitter: @Bryce_A_Miller